Tuesday, March 23, 2010

No Time


No Time

In a rush this weekday morning,
I tap the horn
as I speed past the cemetery
where my parents are buried
side by side beneath
a slab of smooth granite.

Then, all day, I think of him rising up
to give me that look
of knowing disapproval
while my mother calmly tells him
to lie back down.


Billy Collins

Posted over on Poetry Foundation

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